Shattered
by crescent-moon-demon
Summary: *AU* Things were going so well... and then Vortex got impatient. Sequel to 'Questions'. Mech/Mech slash; manipulation, some dirty talking
1. Shattered

**C.M.D: Well howdy~ Here's some more Vortex and Fireflight for all you lovelies wanting to see some fun interactions between the two! If you've been following along with 'Snowflake', 'First Date' and 'Questions', well then, you already know all the background history between these two characters! If you haven't, you'll still be able to enjoy this fic, but I confess, you might get confused. If that doesn't bother you, read on! Enjoy some funny DecepticonxAutobot fiascos -now with angst! = D**

* * *

_**Shattered**_

* * *

First Aid knew he should have called first.

"Well, hello gorgeous."

The ambulance tried to back away quickly, but the servo that lashed out suddenly wrapped tight around his wrist, pulling him back onto the porch. Growing nervous, First Aid started to squirm. "L-let me go, Vortex," he demanded, only the slightest tremor in his vocalizer. It was enough to make the Decepticon grin though.

"Why should I? You here for that lil' grease ball Swindle... or myself?," the psycho questioned sugarly. "Come, come now. There's no need to struggle so much."

First Aid tugged again on his captured wrist; his other servo trying to keep the encroaching claws from scraping anywhere on his plating. "I d-don't appreciate what you're saying," the pacifist bravely spoke up. "Y-you're dating Fireflight, are you not? W-why are you bothering me?"

The helicopter shrugged carelessly, rotor blades twitching as he finally managed to grab hold of the Autobot's waist, pulling First Aid flush against his frame. "So what? Ah, c'mon. I _know_ you like me, Aid," he cooed, groping the other's aft, "Don't tell me that you don't. So why don't you and me head on upstairs, hmm?"

"N-no!," First Aid cried, trying to kick and punch the Decepticon. Vortex merely laughed at his pitiful attempts, forcing the white mech backwards; pinning him to the wall. "S-stop it, V-vortex. I don't want to do this with you. I like Swindle!"

The grey mech merely cocked his helm to the side, frighteningly silent. "Well, we'll just have to see about that, _won't we?_," he questioned, retracting his mask. An insane smile glittered down on the medic, making First Aid shiver. Chuckling lowly, Vortex leaned forward, his mouth heading straight for the other's neck cables.

* * *

Humming happily, Fireflight skipped down the sidewalk; a bag of copper drops in his servos and a smile wide across his lip components. He knew he should have been concerned, since he seemed to have lost his family again when he went in to buy that bag of treats, but he couldn't be bothered about it at this moment. It was with a burst of sudden inspiration that the jet thought to go visit Vortex and share his goodies with his friend.

He knew the Decepticon would be overjoyed to see him, and it was that knowledge that had Fireflight all in a twitter.

See, he had decided he really liked Vortex. The older 'bot always got him all sorts of toys and candies, and he liked touching the Autobot in ways he had told the youngling was a secret and that no one else should do. Fireflight would admit they were weird forms of contact, but they felt really good, and Vortex liked to hug and kiss him a lot afterwards. The helicopter was really nice to him, and it made the flyer super happy. And since Vortex had always been so kind to him, Fireflight thought his friend was deserving of a treat; a way for the Autobot to show his own gratitude to the older mech.

Which was why he was skipping his way to the Decepticon's house now (he knew the way, after coming over ever so often), swinging his bag of candy side to side in his excitement.

Rounding the bend, the youngling was happy to see the big house just ahead. And Vortex was out on the porch too! Fireflight increased his pace, noticing only an astrosecond that First Aid was there as well, and he was awfully... close... to Vortex...

"See, I knew it," the jet could hear the grey mech say from across the front lawn. He slowed to a stop. "I really knew you wanted me. Primus, First Aid... always coming over with your red and white plating all gleaming... You were just begging me to take you, weren't you?"

Vortex hadn't noticed him yet. Why hadn't Vortex noticed him?

Why did he say that about First Aid's plating?

"Primus, you're just a fragging tease, aren't you, First Aid," Vortex continued, leaning forwards, so that his lip components were almost brushing along the medic's mouth guard. His free servo reached down the other Autobot's frame, groping as it went.

Trembles overcame the unwilling watcher.

No...n-no...

"Well, I'm just going to split your legs open right here and now and have my way with your pretty little self. I'll have you screaming my name to the stars above shortly." As if to seal the deal, the helicopter pressed even closer to First Aid, mouth reaching for taut neck cables; First Aid writhing uselessly in the bigger mech's hold. "And now I've got you all to myself, cutie..."

Copper rang as it hit the concrete, rolling off in several different directions.

* * *

Something clattered behind him, and Vortex all but snarled at the interruption. Glaring, he pulled back from First Aid, missing the other's hushed whisper as he turned that look over his shoulder plating. Whatever animosity he felt at that instant disappeared immediately as he found himself looking back into equally wide and stunned optics. "F...fireflight?"

The jet started at the call of his name, the coolant that had collected in his optics splashing down his cheekplates finally. Horrified, Fireflight twisted on his heel, running back the way he had come; crushing his copper drops under his pedes as he went.

The youngling didn't even look back once.

First Aid watched Fireflight run off, his spark aching in empathy for the other Autobot. Clenching his fists, the ambulance shoved all his weight forward, throwing the dazed Decepticon away from him. Vortex landed against the railing, a surprised gasp escaping him, yet he did not move. "You...y-you jerk!," First Aid shouted at him, his own optics glazed with tears. It looked like the medic wanted to scream something more at him, but he couldn't get the hateful words past his vocalizer. Shaking his helm angrily, First Aid hurried off the porch, calling after Fireflight as he ran to catch up with the flyer.

Vortex stayed as he was, leaning heavily against the porch railing, his disbelieving gaze stuck to the floor beneath his pedes.

* * *

**C.M.D: Poor poor Fireflight... T_T But what could be expected from an insane, sadistic, unfeeling, 'face-crazy Decepticon?  
Part two and three are on their way!  
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?**


	2. Monsters

**C.M.D: Heartbreak sucks...**

* * *

**Monsters**

* * *

These days, Fireflight seemed...

Well, to put it simply, even more space-cased than he usually was. Sure he could get caught up in his thoughts quickly and wander off to investigate whatever caught his recent fancy, but this was definitely worse.

The phantom jet was always in a constant daze, humming joyfully under his intakes as he weaved this way and that; skipping as he went and smiling with utter contentment. Sometimes he quieted, but it was only for an astrosecond, before his cheekplates would lighten momentarily with a blush, and then he'd be back to skipping, humming, smiling and all the rest.

"... he's weird," Air Raid commented snidely, as they were reflecting on this.

"No, not weird, brother," Skydive corrected, "It is more likely that Fireflight is in love."

The other two Autobots looked at him strangely. Frowning slightly, the falcon jet turned his olfactory sensor back to his book, ignoring his brothers. Slingshot scoffed, looking over his shoulder plating darkly. "Impossible," he grumbled, mostly to himself. "It's a monster, that's what it is. A monster stalking Fireflight. He's got him all twisted up and hypnotized, I tell ya! And soon... soon he'll eat our baby brother. Mark my words."

This time, it was the other two looking at the harrier jump jet weirdly. Smirking evilly, Air Raid tip-toed up behind the shorter mech, jumping into the air and screaming "BOOGA BOOGA!", straight into Slingshot's audio. His brother almost leapt out of his plating; whirling around and snarling at the practical joker.

Skydive wisely kept his helm turned down and his audio receptors blocked as the two began racing around the kitchen, yelling something -probably threats- as Slingshot tried to grab hold of a laughing Air Raid. Despite having the volume turned down, even the oldest flyer heard the front door slam open and frantic pedes take the stairs two, three at a time, before another door was slamming shut upstairs. Slingshot and Air Raid turned to look at the falcon jet, their expressions wrought with confusion and slight trepidation.

"If mom and dad are still out at the store...," Air Raid started.

"Then that must be Fireflight," Slingshot finished. The harrier jump jet spat to the side, fists clenching at his hips unconsciously. "See? I told you there was going to be trouble! But none of you listened to me. Serves you right, you slagging m-"

"Slingshot, please," Skydive cut in tersely. The oldest sibling put aside his book, getting to his pedes slowly. "It sounds as if Fireflight is really upset about something. Instead of bickering, shouldn't we be trying to find out what that something is? Or otherwise, comforting him?"

The shorter youngling had the decency to look embarrassed. Grumbling still under his intakes, he nodded. "Let's go see how 'Flight is doing," he agreed, turning and marching out of the room. The other two followed his lead.

* * *

Why, he wailed into his pillow, why did Vortex have to do that?

Why did he want to touch First Aid the same way he touched him?

Why? Why? WHY?

The youngling could only ask the questions, having them snap and snarl through his helm in never ending loops, gasping and sobbing as he clutched tighter to his pillow. No matter how much he cried or questioned, he knew he would never get the answers he needed, and that tore even deeper at his tender spark.

So he cried, harder and faster, his poor frame shaking with his agony.

* * *

When his brothers came upstairs, it was to find Fireflight face first in his pillow, wings and servos trembling as he pressed further into the bedsheets; wailing at the top of his intakes. They had never seen the phantom jet this distraught before and it almost scared them. Skydive, being the oldest, stepped into the room, slowly approaching the berth.

"Fireflight...," he called gently, "Fireflight, what's happened?"

Keening sobs met his audios.

"Fireflight," Skydive tried again. Air Raid and Slingshot tip-toed up behind him, crowding uncertainly. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

The falcon jet gently stroked the other's wings, trying to calm him down and get the youngest sibling to talk to him. At his gentle touch though, Fireflight flinched, throwing himself up from the bed. "H-he... he," he choked. He swallowed sharply, folding forwards as a sob ripped through his chassis. Tears coated his cheekplates thickly, and were still falling, his lip components curled with his misery. "H-he do-doesn't w-want me!"

The confession shocked the other three into silence.

"He, h-he... I-i-i-i w-was, was on-only a rep-placment! H-he wanted tha-that other 'b-bot- he di-didn't re-really like mmmm-me at a-all!"

"O-oh... Fireflight," Skydive sighed sympathetically. He reached forward to try and wrap his baby brother into a hug, only to have the phantom jet slap his servos away, backing into the wall.

"Leave me alone!," Fireflight shrieked, grabbing his pillow and squeezing it to his chestplates. He let out a broken whimper, burying his face again in the damp material; rocking as he continued to weep. Little mumbles, of 'unwanted' and 'fakes', came through, clutching hard at his brothers' sparks.

Shakily, Skydive rose to his pedes, ushering the other two out of the room. "Why didn't you do something?," Slingshot growled as soon as the falcon jet had shut the door.

"Slingshot!," Air Raid hissed, grabbing hold of the shorter mech's arm.

"No, I want to know why this slagger didn't bother to do something! Fireflight is our brother -we're supposed to be helping him! But you made us leave!"

Skydive stared at Slingshot sadly, more hurt than angry at his brother's accusation. "What can we do, Slingshot? Fireflight obviously doesn't want our help or our comfort... not right now," he explained. Pausing, Skydive took a moment to glance back at the closed door. "We'll... w-we'll have to tell mom and dad when they come back. But for now, there's nothing that can be done. Hopefully, Fireflight will be willing to tell us more soon."

Resignedly, the eldest flyer started down the stairs. Slingshot cursed angrily, storming off into his own room. Air Raid, torn, stood there silently, not knowing what to do or where to go.

* * *

The air was strangely dark in the Combaticon household.

"Hey, I'm home," Swindle called, stepping into the room. He turned into the living room, noticing the odd silence. "Ummm...," he started, glancing at his sire sitting in his arm chair, working his way from brother to brother until he saw Vortex sitting sunken in the middle of the couch. "What's going on guys?"

"That is what we're trying to figure out," Onslaught gruffed. He had his fingers bridged before his face seriously, his attention fixed wholly on the helicopter. "Your brother here has been quiet since my return home. He refuses to say what's wrong."

"Not as if it would do him much good anyways," Blast Off commented snidely from where he stood, leaning against the wall.

Brawl was quiet. Swindle shuttered his optics idly, casting Vortex another worried glance. "Okay then. So... anyone see Fireflight today? I thought I saw the kid at the store earlier and..." The tan mech cut himself off, noticing how his brother seemed to sink further into his seat, now full-out glaring at the floor. Everyone else noticed the reaction too, and leapt.

"So this concerns that Autobot, huh? Let me guess," Onslaught said, leaning back into his seat. Now that he knew what the source of the problem was, he was more at ease. "You finally managed to scare him off, did you?"

"Not quite," Blast Off piped up again. "Fireflight ran as soon as he saw Vortex making a move on First Aid."

"Ha! So you ended up cheating on him after all," Swindle chortled. "Serves you right and- wait! WHAT? You were making moves on MY FIRST AID? YOU FRAGGER!"

Brawl hurriedly grabbed hold of his younger brother before the entrepreneur could throw himself at the unresponsive helicopter. "C'mon Swin," the tank said, speaking softly for once. "It's not worth it. You know how 'Tex is like. 'Sides, First Aid would never go for a mech like him and you'd only get beaten up for no reason."

The jeep still cursed and kicked, trying to claw out of Brawl's hold and for the grey mech. Sighing, Onslaught sent his son a pointed look, to which the tank responded, carrying his yelling brother out of the living room and outside. Once it was quiet again, the truck turned to Vortex. "Well, your little hunt lasted longer than I had expected. So he's gone... you'll find someone else," he said, in a pseudo-comforting manner. "It's not like you weren't going to toss him to the curb anyways as soon as you were finished with him."

His piece said, Onslaught pushed himself to his pedes, heading for the kitchen and a strong drink. Leaving only Blast Off. The shuttle remained as he was for a few kliks, before he sighed exasperatedly, walking straight for Vortex.

"If...," the grey Decepticon growled as the eldest mech stopped right in front of him, "You're going to offer some sort of 'comfort' as well, I'm going to have to ask you to shove it up your aft."

"Comfort would imply that you were deserving of it," Blast Off drawled. "But we both know that's not the case. You were using Fireflight, interested only in your next frag. You've always been like that. Are you so surprised then that everybody believes you were going to just dump him once you'd finished playing with the foolish Autobot?"

Silence met his inquiry.

Shaking his helm, Blast Off folded his arms across his chestplates. "It seems the only one surprised is you... And for what reason, I'm not sure. Somehow I doubt it's because you actually have feelings for the youngling."

Vortex glared up at him, his fingers digging into the couch tensely. Shrugging nonchalantly, the shuttle turned away, ready to return to his room and the lengthy classic waiting for him. "Whatever the case may be, it won't matter really. After this, you'll be lucky to see that Autobot out on the street, let alone talk to him."

The helicopter watched his brother leave silently, unable to think of an appropriate response.

* * *

**C.M.D: Not even his family is surprised with him... Bad Vortex! }:U  
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	3. Regrets

**C.M.D: Our poor jet's spark has been broken... what will happen next?**

* * *

**Regrets**

* * *

It had been days since he had last seen Fireflight.

Days spent pacing his room angrily; longer nights pounding whatever 'bot he could get his servos on, and still not being satisfied at the end of it. His brothers seemed utterly fed up with his behaviour. Swindle was pissed at him for trying to frag First Aid, and both mechs had taken to avidly avoiding the house and him because of it. Brawl kept muttering on about missing the youngling's presence and never having the chance to hug him, while Blast Off told him to keep his "pathetic, self-pitying atmosphere away from me and my books."

His sire, Onslaught, seemed intent on drinking himself under the table every night since the incident.

It was at this point that Vortex was forced to analyze himself and think... maybe, just maybe... he had made a mistake.

And possibly, he just might have developed... feelings... for Fireflight, after all.

* * *

Silverbolt slammed the plates into the sink filled with sudsy water, grabbing hold of the sponge with an infuriated growl. At the sound, Trailbreaker looked up from his newspaper, sitting at the small kitchen table with a steaming mug of oil to keep him company. "What's wrong, love?," he asked, in that low, gentle tone he always spoke with.

"What's wrong?," the white Autobot almost hissed. "What's wrong is that my lil' sparkling is upstairs, still crying over the mech that had the audacity to break his spark -and I wasn't even aware of the fact that Fireflight was seeing anyone, let alone crushing on a 'bot! And now it's too late for me to help!"

Seeing how angry Silverbolt was, Trailbreaker got to his pedes, large fingers gently massaging the trembling wings. "Come now, honey," the camper truck soothed. "I don't think any of us were expecting Fireflight to date anybot, let alone keep it a secret from us, but that doesn't mean it's too late. Our sparkling is still hurting inside and he needs his momma to hold and comfort him."

The concord's lower lip component trembled a little, despite how strong he tried to appear. "But... h-he doesn't want my comfort. He wants nothing to d-do with m-me!" It was really tearing him up inside, knowing how much he longed to help his baby, and yet having the phantom jet refuse him so violently. He understood it was because Fireflight was hurting inside, but that didn't make it any less painful for him either.

Trailbreaker didn't know what else to say to his mate. He continued to stroke his wings placatingly, before gently easing him away from the sink and into a chair. "Here, let me do the dishes, 'Bolt," he requested. "I'll take care of them while you relax for a moment. You just need some time to calm down, same with Fireflight. When he's grieved for some time, he'll tell us all about what happened and how we can help."

Though the words were smart, Silverbolt didn't exactly care to hear them. He frowned at the camper truck for a moment, but only a kind smile shined back at him, and the white mech was forced to relent. Sighing softly, he clasped his servos atop of the table, staring at the fridge. Pictures, only a few weeks old, decorated its face; drawn by Fireflight's own servo and depicting all sorts of happy things such as petro rabbits, flowers and energon goodies. "I just want to hug my baby...," he whispered sadly.

The grey mech leaned in, kissing him softly. "I know," Trailbreaker said in empathy. "I know."

* * *

"_Hey, Vortex..."_

The voice stirred his attentions, even in his haze of indifference. He recalled the way blue optics glimmered, Fireflight turning his helm to look back at the larger mech. Fingers were pointing to the store shop window, where toys and dolls seemed to glow in the special lighting.

"_Aren't they beautiful?"_

Honestly, he hadn't thought so. At the time, he was more concerned about getting the youngling into a private corner and molesting the slag out of him. He cared more about his moans and mewls then, rather than the things he actually said. Not that the Autobot had noticed, of course. He had simply pressed his servos to the glass, staring into the window with an undefinable joy.

"_Each one is made ever so preciously, waiting until the moment when they are picked for that special mech or femme. Do you wonder if they get sad when they sit for so long, without a sparkling to call their own?"_

What an odd question... Toys were toys. Who cared who played with them? But Fireflight was enraptured with them, his smile soft and serene as he continued to gaze at the various items. He had been strangely annoyed with the expression.

"_I bet they do. I know I would. Stuck on a shelf all that time, until someone finally picks them. I'd pick them all if I could, and give each of them my love equally. So that they'd never feel sad or lonely again... Oh, hey! Look, a juggler!"_

Sparklings laughing ripped Vortex from his thoughts; annoyed, the helicopter glared in their direction, restraining himself from getting up and bashing their little helms in together. It almost felt like they were mocking him... in the worse case, it reminded him too much of Fireflight.

Why had he come to the park again?

Oh yeah... he was trying to escape the suffering atmosphere of his own home at the moment, fed up with Brawl's whimpering and his sire's ire with him. That's why he had even bothered to come outside, feeling that a walk might do him some good. Or maybe find him someone to frag to pass the time. Wandering into the nearest park hadn't exactly been part of his plan, but then again, neither had thinking about Fireflight been on his list of things to do this orn.

He shouldn't have been thinking about the little jet at all...

Vortex growled irritably, annoyed that his thoughts were still lingering on the Autobot. So he'd "dumped him", so what? He should have already moved on by now, getting himself a new toy to play with. And yet... he couldn't.

The helicopter found it physically impossible to find someone else. It was already a struggle just to frag some other 'bot, and even then, he never really enjoyed himself. His thoughts were too wrapped up in Fireflight and he was loathe to admit that he was actually missing the flyer.

...he hadn't even broken his final seal yet...

Not that fact should really be the focal point here, but the fact was he was still regretting that in favour of thinking about... everything else.

Vortex grumbled to himself angrily. So this was how he worked on not thinking about Fireflight? By thinking about him even more? Slaggit, he needed a drink. A good, stiff drink. Getting to his pedes, the Decepticon began to meander off aimlessly, his optics searching for any bar open and serving at this time of the orn. He knew come evening he'd be lucky if he could still recall his own name.

* * *

After a few days, he found that the tears stopped flowing.

"...'Flight?"

But that didn't mean the pain had gone away. Indeed, it felt even worse now.

"Fireflight?" Air Raid peeked around the door anxiously, stepping into the room slowly. His brother did not respond to his call, lying on the berth half-curled into a ball like he had been for the past few days. Seeing as he yet to receive a negative response, the older mech continued into the room, approaching the berth slowly.

"Fireflight... are you hungry?," the eagle jet hesitantly asked, crouching just within the other's view. He smiled, forcibly, because the sight of those emotionless optics staring unseeingly back at him could make any mech cry. "Well, I, uh... I got you some of your favourite treats. I-if... you want them."

Air Raid pulled the bag of rust sticks out of subspace, placing them on the berth between himself and his brother fearfully. He didn't know if the phantom jet would accept the gift or throw it back in his face. It was amazing that Fireflight even recognized the offering. Still, he made no move to take or give them back.

Feeling as if he had over stayed his welcome, the older Autobot got to his pedes, inching for the door. He tried his hardest not to glance over his shoulder plating as he went. He did stop though at the hesitant call of his name.

"...A-ar-Ra...?"

Intakes hitching, Air Raid turned to face Fireflight, seeing the youngling pushing himself weakly up off the berth. Dim optics were glittering again with tears as he looked pleadingly at his elder brother. Even if Fireflight hadn't used his nickname from their sparkling days, the arms held out hesitantly for him would have been enough to draw the eagle jet's full attention.

"P-please...?"

Nothing more needed to be said. Air Raid rushed back to his brother's side, wrapping Fireflight up in a tight hug. Comforting the other flyer as he again began to cry.

* * *

It had been pure chance on his part that he had seen the Autobot on the street.

Even over-energized, Vortex was a master stalker, and he tailed after the white and red mech all the way through the streets and alleys. He wasn't entirely sure which of Fireflight's brother this one was, but it didn't matter. He had mentioned the phantom jet on his comm link and even had a bag of treats for the flyer -proof enough that he knew the youngling intimately. At first, the helicopter thought to interrogate the Autobot into telling him Fireflight's status, but his sly processor settled on a different plan of action. One that he was thankful for following now, as it led him all the way to the jet's home.

Hanging back, Vortex watched as the one he had just been stalking entered into the large, white home; shutting the door behind him as he went. It seemed unlikely that the eagle jet had noticed himself being tailed, but the grey mech waited a few kliks more before coming out of his shadowy corner and approaching the house. All was silent as he crept across the lawn.

With a well-practised ease, he glanced into each window, scanning the rooms within quickly for any sign of his flyer. On the ground floor, he saw nobody but Fireflight's two creators. The youngling, he suspected then, must have been upstairs. Vortex pulled back, studying the house. There were at least eight different windows for the second level, most of which were dark. If he had to guess which room Fireflight might have been in, it'd probably be one with a light on. Just as he started to plan which window he would climb to first, a light on the far right of the house turned on.

Beneath his mask, Vortex grinned, knowing that was the room he wanted.

Quickly, the helicopter scaled the wall, swinging himself up onto the patio's small roof silently, and tip-toeing in a crouch for his selected window. He was practically grinning in delight as he peeked over the window sill... a grin that was quick to fall from his faceplates again when he saw the scene within.

Irrational jealousy tore through him, making him hiss in disgust and hatred. The Autobot he had followed to Fireflight's home was currently stretched across a berth, his arms wrapped tightly around the phantom jet. The Decepticon could see his lip components move softly, whispering something to the other, but Fireflight only shook his helm at the unknown words, clutching tighter to his brother. The older flyer sighed sympathetically, kissing the youngling's crown; servos massaging shivering wings as tears began to pour again from the smaller one's optics.

Fireflight was his!, a voice growled within him. He should be the only one holding the Autobot, touching his wings and kissing him. Not that other jet, and certainly none of Fireflight's family either.

They didn't deserve to!

But...

He didn't either.

Vortex dropped down to the tiles, feeling his fuel tanks twist painfully with his sudden shock. He had no idea where that last thought had come from, nor did he care to know. He shook his helm viciously, trying to shake the words off, but they were already digging in deep; rooting into his processor firmly. Again, he felt ready to purge, and the helicopter was decidedly not pleased with this variation of pain.

This is all your fault, the voice pointed out snidely. You are the one that made him cry; made him run.

He hesitated on one more peek over the sill -seeing Fireflight still caged in comforting arms as he wept- before Vortex turned away completely, slipping down off the roof and to the ground below. He was almost fleeing himself as he tore back down the lamp-lit streets, eager for another drink -anything that would erase the sight of the flyer crying and the unwelcome twisting of his fuel tanks from his processor.

* * *

**C.M.D: Could it be? Is Vortex feeling... guilty? And does it even matter anymore? Perhaps, this means the end indefinitely for these two.  
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End file.
